Mornings like this
by WinterRain242
Summary: 'I just want to talk about after' she says, voice portraying a calm she doesn't feel. 'When we get back to Brize'.


_So this one shot came out of nowhere.. probably inspired by last episode of our girl series 2- have to say I had by fingers crossed to see Molly again. So if like me there's a Molly and Captain James shaped hole in your life, this story is for you ! Hope you enjoy._

* * *

 **Mornings like this**

Her eyes flutter open- squinting in the bright morning sun that's leaking in through the tent flap. Golden light picking out a myriad of colours in the terracotta sand outside. A light breeze ruffles her hair, still marginally damp from when she washed it last night and as It smooths over her skin, she realises there's nothing covering her- No army regulation polyester keeping out the morning chill. She squirms attempting to right that situation, hand reaching for the sleeping bag that she's bound to find but instead her hand knocks into someone's leg, centimetres from her own on this tiny cot bed. Someone shifts behind her, hot breath lightly fanning across her arm and she freezes. Every muscle protesting as adrenaline crashes through her brain.

'Alright Dawse' he mummers, voice still groggy with lack of sleep- an instant pick me up for her drowsy limbs, almost as if he's electrocuted her. She stays motionless- not trusting herself to turn round as she can't bear to see his stupidly smug face. Especially after she told him last week that this wouldn't, couldn't happen again.

'What time is it?' she asks, and she hears him groan as he pulls himself up to sitting- eyes squinting across to his alarm clock that's perched on the desk- liquid green numbers casting that familiar dark shadow over the roof.

'4.15' he says and then slides back next to her, long arms winding their way round her tensed form as if investigating her for the first time. 'You don't need to leave just yet'

They settle into silence, his muscular arms hanging heavy over her skin- negating the need for a duvet. His long fingers trace out letters on her thigh- she presumes he's writing a message, committing a memory to her skin with imaginary ink. In her sleep addled state she can't work out what it says.

'Hey' he murmurs in her ear after a while, slight inflection of confusion to why she remaining so still, so tense. 'Don't go all thoughtful on me'.

'I'm not' she manages to lie, head churning in a sea of scenarios which all end badly for both of them.

He snorts, not believing a word. Hands reaching down to slide up the hem of her too big T-shirt which is pooling down to her mid-thigh. It's his Top, the material jumbled up with scents of his Hugo boss aftershave which haunts her by day around the camp. It's one of the only items of uniform that isn't currently spread across the tent floor- incongruous additions to his pristine sleeping quarters.

'Just enjoy the now' he murmurs as he softly pulls her over to face him, legs knocking against each other in the small space. 'You don't need to think about the rest'.

He's said that a lot recently and it comes as a surprise because he's constantly telling her to engage her brain throughout the day. Sending her those blistering looks of derision when she opens her mouth without thinking. But here he doesn't want that, he's told her before that this tent is like a different world- a place without boundaries, regulations and thoughts. But she can't help but bring them in with her- attempting to initiate the conversation he is clearly so desperate to avoid. He brushes her hair back, bringing her back to their present. Boyish smile watching in amusement as she tries to burrow into the cushion to avoid his gaze.

'Your blushing Dawse' he murmurs, shifting closer so he can trail a hand across her soft skin- charting its progress as if scared it will disappear.

'That's because your embarrassing' she manages to quip back 'can't believe I slept with a Rupert like you' and she's glad she said it, because his eyes turn darker- teeth moving to catch his bottom lip- a movement she wants to do herself.

'Say that again and I-'

But she beats him too it, as lying this close to him and not kissing him is punishment enough. He smiles against her, lips pushing open her mouth with quick movements, hands sliding around her neck to bring her closer to him. He's pushing her onto her back- leaning over her- the scrape of his skin against hers a delicious harmony that she doesn't want to upset, so she pushes the thoughts from her mind and kisses him back.

* * *

She realises a few hours later that they really need work out what it is they are doing. Reality crashing back to her as she slips back into the main sleeping quarters, settling down on her cot bed with its union jack modesty screen. Everyone else seems to be asleep; the heavy snoring of Smurf reassuring her that he hasn't noticed her disappearance. They all sleep so deeply, It almost makes her laugh because the Taliban could quite happily wonder up and down the long rows of beds in this stuffy tent and no one would be any wiser.

She slides back under the duvet to rest her head back on her pillow but sleep is far from her mind, body still submerged in the heady memory of him. Her limbs are aching, lips swollen from his insistent mouth and she's certain that there is another love bite beginning to form on her neck- tactically placed so it can be covered by her uniform. She's built up quite a collection over the past few week her trembling fingers brushing across them as she lies still. He is not what she expected, even her wildest fantasies -and there were plenty of them, cooked up in that period of time between waking and sleeping- fell drastically short of the tantalising hold he has on her. The hold she has over him as well, because though he tries to brush It off she can tell that he's just as screwed as she is- dark eyes flicking in lust every time she so much as smiles his way.

She's thankful that she lives side by side with a group of idiots. Brilliant and courageous idiots who make her smile day in day out, but idiots all the same. They remain oblivious- even when she slips off on an evening and doesn't return by the time they turn off the main light or when James flicks his eyes over her in mission briefing, an entirely inappropriate look on his face as he barks out their commands. They haven't noticed a thing and it's probably because most of them couldn't even begin to comprehend it. If they did they would go silent, 2 Section lapsing into a stunned nothingness for the first time this tour, mouths gawping as she told them.

She shudders, pulling her sleeping bag further up over her torso as a means of distraction. Her eyelids soon become heavy and it's only then that she realises just how tired she is- 2 gruelling patrols and the PT sessions from yesterday finally catching up with her. She feels her eyes finally flutter closed, darkness a welcome distraction to those nasty thoughts.

But there's a noise, building in pitch till it forces her eyes back open- a nasty beeping noise which she recognises somewhere in the back of her mind. Another starts and she realises in horror that it must be morning as the chorus of alarm clocks begin their rousing 6 o'clock symphony. There's a noise by her bed and she opens her eyes to see the tent flap crashing open to reveal the bright sunlight of Afghan framing a stocky figure.

'Get up you fuckers' she hears Brains yell, crashing back into the tent from all night sentry duty, unclipping his helmet as he walks past her to release a shower of sand. 'It's another beautiful day in paradise'

His enthusiasm is met with collective groans from the rest of the group as he moves down the waking bodies, savagely ripping off sleeping bags left right and centre. 'So much for sleep' she murmurs to herself as she throws back her own to swing herself out of bed. 'So much for sodding sleep'

* * *

She corners him at breakfast, because really it's very unlikely that she's going to give into her carnal desires as she sits surrounded by the rest of 2 section- intently focused on scoffing down sausage, bacon and egg.

After grabbing a bowl of coco pops and a clean spoon she deliberately forces her reluctant feet over to where he is sitting. She could watch him all day- head bent, eyes glossing quickly over the newspaper that's been sent over from home and she swallows quickly because no one should be able to read about the impending housing crisis and look that damned good. Slowly she climbs over the bench, settling herself directly opposite him. Something no one usually does as he always removes himself from their eating escapades, placing himself a good few feet away from any one in his platoon.

He sends her a warning look as her boots scuff the metal seat- sand flicking off in every direction.

'Alright' she murmurs, 'don't flatter yourself' 'I'm not going to bang you right here right now'

He snorts, 'Bang? Who even says that anymore?'

'The youth of today' she drawls, scooping a large pile of cereal onto her spoon. 'Not that you'd know, what with you coming up for your pension soon'

He laughs, which elicits those perfect but very wrong butterflies that she's meant to be keeping in control. Her joke is a downright lie; she of all people should know just how young he looks. Especially last night, with that boyish smirk creasing over his face as he kissed her- his smugness irritating but oh so appealing. She's noticed how the lines on his forehead seem to fade away when he's with her, stripping back the layers of responsibility he's forced on himself.

'Watch it Dawse' he growls, pulling out the syllables in her name the same way he did last night. She swallows thickly and he notices, eyes darting to her throat and then back to her eyes- grinning triumphantly at the effect he has on her. Damn him.

'I think we should talk' she finally manages to say, her breath dropping back into normal. His eyes narrow briefly and it's like she's transported them back to their first week together when every time she so much as opened her gob he snapped.

'I don't think we should' he counters- thin hands moving to turn another page in his stupid newspaper.

'You don't know what I'm gonna say'

'I don't think I want to know'

'Mature' she mumbles and his eyes snap up at that- he can't help himself.

'You want to talk about maturity' and his face is shuttered off to her in the space of a heartbeat, eyes hooded. 'Remind me- who was it that invited themselves into my tent last night?'

She blushes at the memory. 'I needed to contact headquarters' she protests. 'urgently'

He rolls his eyes at that because he knows she's lying. Hell she didn't even get round to telling him what 'urgent' medical supplies she needed because he'd looked at her with that stupid smile of his as soon as she'd walked in.

'I didn't ask you to kiss me' she snaps. The glare he sends her is ice cold and she turns to see Fingers breezing past their table, her voice is clearly louder than she realises.

'I couldn't help it' he says, eyes following Fingers back to his seat. 'Not when you came in looking like that' and he gestures to the person she was last night- wet hair and west ham T-shirt, a winning combination that she's starting to learn gets him every time.

He coughs and takes a sip from his coffee, tipping back the blue mug to reveal the smattering of chips across its surface. She thinks not for the first time that the coffee capsule is probably more expensive than the actual mug he's drinking from- A price she's had first-hand experience of and frankly finds a little bizarre.

'Go finish your breakfast' he says, nodding towards her uneaten bowl of coco pops.

She turns her head and the breeze caresses against her neck, exactly where his lips were last night. It's his scent whipping round her in the silence that suddenly gives her courage to speak. To put words to the messy thoughts that have been haunting her for days.

'I just want to talk about after' she says, voice portraying a calm she doesn't feel. 'When we get back to Brize'

He stiffens In front of her, panic crashing into those brown irises as she really hoped it wouldn't. And it's back to that pathetic game of hot and cold, off and on that he plays so well. But this time she's altered the rules because neither of them have mentioned the future before.

'What do you mean?' he asks, though he knows exactly what it is she's harping on about because she can see the understanding reflected across his face.

'I like you' she murmurs, and it's the first time she's said the words out loud. 'and I want to see you after this'

She reaches out to touch her trembling fingertips to his but he snaps his hand away as if burnt. He breathes deeply and she's instantly regretting saying anything because he's making her feel like a naughty school girl admitting illicit feelings for a teacher.

'That's not going to be possible' he says, 'I'm your commanding officer'

She shakes her head- 'You're not listening- I don't mean now. When I'm on a new commission'

'I'm still your senior' he counters, and she can't argue with that. Though she's still confused because in the beginning he kept telling her to wait out. That was until a few weeks ago when they both gave in to that plan. He shifts uncomfortably on the seat. 'Why can't we leave things how they are?'

And his eyes still won't meet hers- gaze trained on an article about how global warming is progressing faster than expected. She didn't realise just how interested he was in the environment till now, that or he's hiding from her- She favours the second option.

'What if I want things to change?' she asks

He looks up then, silently pleading her not to force an answer out of him. This is the question that's swimming round her brain for days- the reason he's started telling her not to think whenever there in each other's company. She knows what it is he's going to reply but she has to ask it anyway. Has to know if somehow they can find a meaning to all of this.

'Things aren't going to change Dawse' he says quietly and her heart drops because this is exactly what she feared. 'This has been great and all but-'

'But?' she prods, unsure why she's forcing this pain on herself. Her last spoonful of coco pops solidifying in her mouth so it feels like she's gagging. She takes a sip of tea.

'We can't continue back home' he says 'not now, not ever.' He breathes deeply and she mirrors his action as she fights for air. 'I don't want to be the one that ruins everything for you Dawse. You have a brilliant career in front of you, who am I to hold you back and get in your way.'

His words are so concise that she suspects he's practiced them before now. Hot whips of anger slamming through her body, because no doubt his plan was to spring this on her in his own time, perhaps 2 weeks from now perhaps at Brize Norton. A flawless plan for him as he's the one in control, it's unlikely they'll ever have to see each other again unless they want to- which he clearly doesn't.

Slowly she glances up at him, eyes raking across his face as if seeing him for the first time- seeing herself for the first time in what feels like months. There's a light flash of moisture pooling round his eyes and it doesn't make sense because he's the one saying these stupid things to hurt her and push her away.

You're a coward' she whispers, because she can see Dangles making his way over to them out of the corner of her eye and she doesn't want him to hear. 'You're a fucking coward when it comes to relationships. You prefer mindless sex to any sort of commitment because you're absolutely terrified of falling on your face. Don't you dare blame this on me''

She watches him tighten his fists, gripping the table in his strong hands which were smoothing across her skin a few hours ago. She suddenly feels cheap and foolish, a stupid girl that's completely misread the whole situation- lured in by his nice laugh and beautiful eyes.

'Now you're just being a bitch' he murmurs, ice cold words slapping against her skin. 'It doesn't suit you Dawse.'

'Better a bitch than a coward' is her reply.

'I've seen things you could only dream of' he suddenly snaps and the mask drops for an instant, to reveal the pain of all those injured men he's had in his command. '4 tours of this sodding country helps you separate the shit from the clay'

'Then commit' she snaps, because this is what it's boiled down to all along. 'Tell me that we can have a future together or get out my life.'

His mouth sets into a thin hard line and he's suddenly clambering to his feet, clapping his hands to get the attention of the rest of the platoon.

'I've just been having a conversation with our very own Private Dawse' and her heartbeat steps into double time as she stares at him in shock- brain reeling at the fact he's about to reveal the illicit relations of the last few weeks just so he can spite her.

'She's asked if we could have an extra PT session at 1100 hours this morning'. There's a collective groan from the rest of the group, but she doesn't care- relief washing over her in a tidal wave that he's not exposed them both.'Being the brilliant and frankly generous captain that I am, I've agreed.' He grins as the lads collapse in mock despair on the breakfast table and she's quite frankly surprised that he can still find time to be funny after the conversation they've both had. 'Be ready you helmets' he adds 'Anyone not giving me 110% will be left outside the camp walls overnight'

'With or without a rifle?' someone chirps up, raucous laughter which she doesn't participate in.

'With' he says 'though that's not going to give you much of an advantage Dangleberries- you barely know how to fire the thing'

They explode into loud laughs and then he turns on his heel, eyes boring into hers as he moves away. They are devoid of emotion- as if he's trying to hurt her by showing just how little effect she has over him. It works- her stomach clenches painfully and she suddenly has the overwhelming urge to cry, fingers reaching out to gently touch the newspaper he's left abandoned.

'Dawse' she hears Smurf groan behind her and she swivels. He's grinning across at her, mock frustration on his face at the fact she's landed them in extra PT.

'You could of given us some warning' Mansfield pipes up, 'I've basically eaten my way to Derby and back this morning'

'You live in Mansfield' they all chorus, never missing an opportunity to crack out that particular joke. She watches Mansfield colour, opening to retaliate but she beats him too it.

'Shut up you lot' she hears herself snap, 'I didn't tell that Jammy prick anything'

They laugh at that, as they laugh at everything. An action which today just grates on her already fragmented nerves.

'Oooh careful Dawse' they croon 'wouldn't be wise to slag off a commanding officer with that big gob of yours'

She dimly notices Smurf staring at her in concern, dark eyebrows raised as he watches the colour rise to her cheeks. He's instantly noticed that she can't seem to cope with the teasing today, because that's just what he's like- he knows her too well. She doesn't want his questions- there are no excuses rapidly springing to mind to safely explain the mess she's already made of this day. So she spins back to her coco pops, determined to ignore them all. Keenly aware that she's done more to her commanding officer than simply slag him off.

* * *

'Right' his voice snaps, infuriatingly he sounds reasonably in breath, unlike the rest of them. They've just finished the second of the 5k runs that he's forced them through this lunchtime. In dispersed with the circuits from hell and emergency medical procedure drill- A task in which she had a huge and frankly gruelling role to play. 'Take 5 and then we'll move onto some weapons handling in the courtyard'

Silence greets his words- he broke them all half an hour ago, the usually raucous shouting of PT fading into a ghastly quiet as everyone began to simply focus on just getting through alive.

'This will give you an opportunity to impress me' he says, 'because lord knows I've seen enough this afternoon that hasn't '

He nods his head at them to signify they can relax, pulling off his body armour in one swift movement- to add insult to injury he'd insisted on full kit throughout, another stab in her direction because she's having to lug her medical kit around with her and it isn't light. He moves away from the group, moving to stare at the outside wall of the camp as he regulates his accelerated breathing.

Nobody moves- breaths coming thick and fast as everyone tries to regulate their breathing through the thick muggy air. Her skin is salty from the copious amounts of sweat that are dripping out of every pore, hair twisted into rat's tails from the humidity of the air. To her right Brains is doubled up again- head leaning over his torso to retch drily onto the sand. Nothing's been coming up for the last few times other than water and despair.

'Right rehydrate' barks Kinders, grabbing a box of water bottles and placing it in their midst's. 'Only an hour to go'. But they collapse into the sand instead- the effort of unscrewing a water bottle lid is clearly too much to ask.

She peels off her kit, dumping it on the ground whilst pushing off her communications head set, an item of kit she's come to loathe because it's had his voice barking down it for the past few hours. Her legs tremble as if considering giving up but she steels herself- her anger for him forcing adrenaline through her system to keep her upright. Before she can stop herself she's following James, trembling legs carrying her over to him with the few spare scraps of energy she has.

He doesn't acknowledge her presence next to him eyes remaining fixed on the wall in front. She watches a bead of sweat run glistening down his brow, if she had more energy she would worry about what she looks like to him but she doesn't have the strength to care- not after what he's put them through.

'We should go inside' she says, gesturing up to the sun- huge and blaring in the cloudless sky.

'Can't handle the heat private?' he asks- crossing his arms as he talks, no doubt a ploy to make him look more in control.

'It's 1 o'clock' she snaps, eyes glancing at his watch for confirmation. 'None of us should be exercising at this time. It's sodding dangerous'

He lets out a short laugh, 'You're telling me how to run my platoon now'

'Advising as the medic sir' she says, 'If we don't watch it that bunch of helmets will get heatstroke'

He nods slowly 'And you think the Taliban give a fuck about heat stroke?' he asks.

'Sir?'

He turns then, dark eyes glowering into her own as he reaches for the 2 water bottles that are sprawled on the ground next to his feet.

'You think they'll only attack between the hours of 3 to 6? Just to save our pretty British skins from being frazzled by the sun?'

'No sir, but-'

'Good practice then' he interrupts, 'now drink up' and he lobs the water bottle to her feet before she has time to catch it.

'You're such a twat' she snaps and he grins back at her, almost as if he was hoping she would say that.

'You really need to stop complimenting me Dawse' he says in reply, moving past her to re-join the group. ' someone might suspect something'

* * *

It had lasted forever- the sun glaring down at them throughout as if attempting to death glare them off the face of the earth. Even now she's not sure how she managed to make it through, how her shaking limbs forced her to keep moving- breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps as the exercise went on. Their saviour had come in the form of Major Beck- demanding James for a video conference, a request which James had tried his hardest to refuse. No doubt he wanted to drain their last dregs of energy, pushing them till they had all finally keeled over on the floor unmoving.

They had all remained where they were for a good 20 minutes after that- all of them, including Kinders, attempting to push air back into their useless lungs.

'What the hell was that?' Brains had managed to gasp, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts- eyes watering from the continuous activation of his gag reflex throughout the exercise.

'Reckon him and the missus had a fight' Smurf had choked, which made her flinch at the time because really he wasn't a million miles from the truth.

There's a noise outside the medics tent- slamming her back into the present. She's wrapped in a towel; wet hair dripping down her back. She's just finished the longest shower she was able to get away with- scrubbing away the sweat of this morning's exercise as well as the scent of him. But even now, with half a bottle of imperial leather on her skin she can still smell him- that raw earth tang that follows her everywhere.

'Dawse' a voice calls-

'I'm only wearing a towel' she yells back, hoping to god there's someone nearby because then he won't be able to come in. But the tent flap opens; revealing James in shorts and a T-shirt, flip flops on his feet. If he wasn't stood next to the defibrillator she could almost believe that they were on holiday together- she pushes those dangerous thoughts from her mind.

'Never stopped me before' he says.

She turns away from him, unable to look at him when he looks so relaxed and carefree. She didn't know it was possible to hate someone as much as she loathes him right now. Her fingers still trembling from the physical exhaustion that's washing over her in waves.

'You shouldn't be in here' she murmurs, searching for her beach shorts that she's taken to wearing on their time off.

'Just wanted to check that the platoon are okay after PT' He's straight to it, attempting to make out that he wasn't watching her across the compound as she traipsed back from the shower. 'No sprained ankles? Broken ribs? Heatstroke?'

'Oh piss off' she snaps 'you're not funny'

'You don't think so?' he asks, she knows he's trying not to laugh, voice all smug and cocky and it pisses her off even more.

She starts to counter, argue that no he really isn't, but something stops her. Maybe its exhaustion, in both forms- mental and physical, crashing over her like the unceasing tide. 'Just go away sir' she says instead, 'I can't be bothered with this anymore'

He shifts towards her, Hugo Boss- £40 a bottle, wafting over her in a glorious assault on the senses.

'That's a shame' he says and she knows that he's within reaching distance of her now, though her back is still towards him. Can hear his flip flops slipping over the cool shade of the tent- his breath rustling the back of her hair.

Her mind is desperate to ask him. Desperate to find out what and why it's a shame- but she refuses to ask, because this is another of his little games. A masterclass in hot and cold all over again.

'Why' she finally snaps, when the silence has become too intense, too heated even though she's not even looking at him.

'Because I can be bothered' he murmurs, strong arms looping around her hot body, fingers splaying across the soft of the towel. 'I'm absolutely into you'

She shrugs him off. 'Yeah well that's your problem' she says, reaching for her T-shirt as if her stomach hasn't just been turned to jelly. 'I can't keep dealing with this, One minute your shouting at me. The next you're in my tent'

He doesn't reply- her words clashing too close to the truth.

'Can you look away please?' she hears herself snap, she needs to get out of this towel before something goes wrong. Before he attempts to kiss her- his hot body pressing against her own.

'I've seen it before' she hears him say and she swivels to look at him- to torture herself one last time with the sight of him smiling- eyes turning dark as he looks her up and down- wet hair and all.

'Yes but you don't need to see it again' she says, gesturing for him to turn.

He raises an eyebrow, as he considers whether or not to take her seriously- She refuses to let her face break into a smile.

'You've got 5 seconds' she says, 'to look away and not look back'

She hears him let out a huff of air, frustration bubbling up before he can quash it down but he turns all the same. Gaze resting on the far corner of the medic test as instructed.

She dresses quickly – stripping off her towel to scramble into her knickers as she used to have to do at home. Desperately trying to dry her body in the sticky humid heat, before he turns round. It feels strange having him here, stood facing away instead of drinking her in. It's a new side to their relationship, an untrusting sort of emotion passing between them. From her vantage point she can watch him uncensored- taking in the strong shoulders, his arms crossed in front of his torso, fingers tapping out unseeing melodies on his tanned skin. He holds out for a few minutes and she's almost impressed by his will power. That is until he turns- dark eyes drinking in her sports bra and beach shorts because she didn't have time to pull on her top.

'Hey' she snaps, grabbing her top off her bed to cover her modesty, blush crashing across her cheeks. She's not sure when she suddenly became so embarrassed by his gaze. 'I said no looking'

'You were staring at me' he challenges, eyebrow raised in mock seriousness. A point she can't refute so she lapses into silence.

He moves towards her then and she slowly and deliberately moves back- desperate to keep some space between them as it's the only thing she has left. His face has softened, a sharp contrast to the harsh angles of earlier and she feels herself start to respond before she can help herself. Her back comes up against one of the draws of supplies and he's covered the distance before she can do anything else. Warm body and stupid scent clamming up her protests the minute they form on her lips.

'I want you' he says, teeth scraping against those perfect lips of his and she's frozen mesmerised. 'Now and after the tour' and her heart feels like its splitting in half because this was exactly what she wanted. She wants him now and forever- mind unable to comprehend anyone else but him.

Her gaze flicks into his own and she notices that it's curdling with desire, that same look he gives her as he watches her undress- lingering on the swell of her curves. And she realises, like a shot to the brain that he just wants her body right now; she's been with enough men to see when it's written across their face. This is his way of restabilising what they had before she started asking questions, started telling him how she feels and that's not what she wants. She's in this for the long run because he's everything she could possibly want and more.

So she steps back from his arms- the cold air of the tent slapping painfully on her bare leg as she does so. She can't meet his eyes, so she addresses the floor, gazing at his blue flip flops and her bare feet.

'Get out' she says and it actually feels as if her heart is breaking, - it's almost a surprise to feel the sharp pain because she thought he had broken it this morning.

'Molly' he protests but she's made up her mind, for now anyway.

'I said get out' she says again, voice marginally louder, surprisingly strong in the heat of the moment. She watches his feet step back a couple of paces, moving softly away from her own bare ones- toe nails painted in bright blue.

'I want to talk' she hears him say, voice trembling across the tent- the first inflection of emotion that he's shown her throughout their shared time together. Face usually disappearing behind that mask of emotion whenever she asks him something personal.

'Yeah well I don't' she hears herself say and for the first time in a while she really means it.

* * *

She's on the roof of the shitter, Smurf by her side. Hands clutching cups of tea as the last light of the day fades behind the thick walls of the camp. For the first time today she feels a rare flash of happiness shoot through her and she shivers, smile moving softly onto her face.

'You cold?' he asks as she knew he would, his eyes trained on the soft profile of her face when he thinks she's not looking- a fact she's come to live with over the last few weeks.

'I'm fine' she says, mock scolding him for being so touchy with her. 'Tough nut me'

He grins across at her- though she notices it doesn't quite reach his eyes, strained expression on his usually carefree face. She instantly knows he's waiting to tell her something and her stomach flips awkwardly.

'Save it' she says before he can speak, his cross analysing is the last thing she needs. Especially considering she's just spent the last few minutes not thinking about James and that's how she wants to keep it.

'Can I just say one thing?' he asks and she lets out a sigh because she reckons he's going to tell her no matter what her answer is. 'I know your upset about something' he starts faltering, because this isn't something they usually do- discuss emotions. 'But I just want you to know that whatever you're upset about. You can tell me you know?'

She nods in agreement even though she's never been less sure about anything in her life. She can feel the emotion trembling out across the small gap between his shirt and her top. The silence stifling out any words that she could possibly offer In return. This is the moment that she could let it all out- reveal the secret that's been carving her in half for the past few weeks. She bites her lip, words just about to tremble out into the still night.

'I got you Molls' he interrupts, reaching across to take her limp hands in his own and he doesn't know it, but he's saved her from herself. There's nothing that can be gained by telling him what's on her mind. He doesn't need to be burdened with that particular piece of information. She lets him take them- Craving that warm tangible comfort. Like a hug from a brother- the weight of his surprisingly soft skin doing more than she thought it would.

'Thanks idiot' she says in reply because she needs to re-establish the boundaries between them. Friend and Friend- nothing more, though she knows he would change that in a heartbeat if he could. She hears him chuckle softly- eyes flicking away from her face to look back up at the sky. She enjoys the silence- the lack of judgement she always feels with Smurf washing over her.

There's a noise behind her, thick boots climbing up the ladder and she forces herself to stay still- hands still linked with Smurfs warm ones. She knows instantly who it is- can feel his gaze X-raying through to her very bones.

'Sir' Smurf acknowledges, head nodding in respect. He moves to pull his hand away but she's suddenly gripping onto him, desperate for him not to leave her alone with James. He glances across at her, eyes a question but she can't explain her actions any more than he can.

'Good work today' he starts, 'You both did well considering the conditions'

They murmur thanks in unison. Silence bearing down on all of them- uncomfortable and sticky like the nights here.

'Give us a minute Smurf' she hears him murmur, boots clipping across the tin roof. This is the first time he's been up here but he instantly makes the space his own- commanding presence overpowering all of them.

Smurf looks at her before he moves away- checking her face carefully to make sure she's okay with the decision. She nods stiffly, eyes wide as she looks back at him. He squeezes her hand briefly before collecting up their thermos cups and padding back down the ladder.

There's a silence again and she hears him shift, legs bending to sit next to her. He leaves a gentlemanly space between them, as if in apology for his actions in the medic tent a few hours before.

'You're in your kit?' she questions, gesturing pointlessly to his full combats that he hadn't been in last time she'd seen him.

'I'm on sentry duty' he murmurs, 'take over from Baz in about 10 minute's time'

'Okay' she hears herself say, a useless addition to the conversation but it's out before she can stop it. Her pathetic need to fill the silence is a bad habit from her London days that's refused to die.

'I want to apologise' he starts, voice back to the gentle lilt she fell in love with all those months ago. 'I've been an absolute prat today and I don't have any excuse. I thought I was doing the right thing- pushing you away from me. But it turns out…'

Her eyes flick across to him as he trails off, telepathically egging him on.

'Well it turns out, even though I go hot and cold every other day… I like you Molly. In fact I like you a lot' He lets out a strangled groan. 'Hell I'm just going to say it because everything else sounds shit'

'You don't have to' she says, voice panicked because all of a sudden their crossing dangerous ground again. 'I don't want you to say something you might regret'

He smiles then and it's so incongruous with their pained conversation that her stomach flips quickly. 'There's nothing about you I regret' he says 'Not one bloody moment'

'wish I could say the same' she murmurs and he laughs, that bloody melody that is so James- a laugh she hasn't been able to get out her head for days.

'Fair enough' he concedes 'I'll let you have that one'

'I don't need your permission' she replies and she can't help but grin- it's a knee jerk response when It comes to him.

'I know' he says, watching her as she watches the sky. 'Hell most of the time it's me that needs permission from you'

She scoffs- 'I'm that demanding?'

The smile he sends her way says it all.

'This is a crap apology' she remarks almost conversationally, 'your slating me when you're meant to be telling me how brilliant I am'

His hands find hers then- one stealing up to gently push the still drying her out of her face. Like Smurf she can tell he's about to tell her something but this time she wants him to, craves the words he's waited so long to state.

'I love you' he says and that slams her into silence, 'I'm a sodding coward when it comes to things like this, but I know for certain that I want to be with you Moll' His hands trace invisible letters across her skin and she watches the movement- he's spelling out her name. 'That is if you'll let me'. And it suddenly doesn't matter that he's pushed her through hell and back again because there was nowhere else that she would've wanted to be. Even as her breath had stuttered in her throat she had known, realised right there and then that she would do anything for him. He's everything that's important in her world right no.

'Ditto' she says, as breathless as if she's back to recovering from that PT session. His hand suddenly grip hers tightly and those brown eyes are wide as he stares at her.

'You're sure?' he asks, and his panic is so endearing that her lips find his in a matter of seconds. Softly sliding against his own, her hands reaching up to smooth through his hair. He tastes of coffee- expensive and mysterious and she can't help but wind herself closer into his bones, there's been too much distance between them today. There's a cool breeze and it rips through her jumper with no mercy but his splayed fingers on her arms coaxing the warmth back in. She feels him pulls away- too soon and she's staring at those wide brown eyes again, quicker than she thought she would be. She blinks back at him.

'You're brilliant' he murmurs and there's so much genuine emotion there, she forgets how to breathe. It's like her own personal sunrise and she feels beautifully happy, a moment of deliriousness that she's never going to forget.

'We're brilliant' she corrects and it feels like they've survived a full day of winter only for the summer to come again.


End file.
